Page 17 of Seduced by a Scoundrel (Tales from the Brotherhood #1)
Seventeen
D errek made the decision to face the inevitable head-on as early as possible the next morning. He woke before sunrise, noting with an anxious knot in his gut that while they shared the same bed in their rooms at The Chameleon Club, Jeremy had not spent the night sprawled overtop of him. It was a certain sign that his dove was completely out of sorts that when Derrek awoke and reached across the bed beside him, Jeremy was curled on his side, facing away.
“Bugger,” Derrek muttered as he rolled out of bed, careful not to wake Jeremy, and slipped into the antechamber for his morning ablutions and to dress.
He understood Jeremy’s frustration with him, his frustration overall. Returning to London should have represented a return to his life and all the things that gave it purpose. His lover had made it clear that he wished to return to his home and his business as quickly as possible. The danger had not passed, however, and the necessity of remaining hidden meant his poor dove had traded a blissful escape for an unsatisfactory prison.
It was not the set of circumstances Derrek would have liked, but he did not see how it could be remedied while keeping his beloved safe.
He had just reached for the door handle to leave their gilded cage when Jeremy’s sleepy voice called out behind him, “Where are you going?”
Derrek tensed as though he had been caught in some nefarious act. He then blew out a breath and turned to face Jeremy.
“I am returning to Scotland Yard, as Anderson requested,” he said, deliberately not adding that the likelihood of him still having a position with the Met at the end of the meeting was slim.
“Give me a moment and I will come with you,” Jeremy said, turning back into the bedchamber.
“No,” Derrek called after him, raising his voice a bit too much. He let out a half sigh when Jeremy faced him again, a look of incredulous surprise on his blotchy, morning face. He was still the handsomest man Derrek had ever known, though. “No,” he said more gently, “I must face this alone. I’m likely about to be sacked, and I do not wish for you to see that.”
Jeremy’s expression shifted through multiple emotions before he gave up some inner struggle. “Very well,” he said, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. “I shall make a quick visit to my shop this morning to see?—”
“You cannot,” Derrek stopped him, again too forcefully.
“I beg your pardon?” Jeremy asked, his arm dropping and his eyes going wide. His love was fully awake now.
Derrek huffed impatiently at himself and took a few steps across the room to Jeremy. “It is too dangerous,” he said. “Until I am able to assess Conroy’s current intentions toward you and whether he still has assassins lying in wait around every corner, I have no wish to let you put yourself in danger.”
“And I have no wish to stay locked away until you see fit to release me,” Jeremy snapped in return.
It was all Derrek could do not to growl and march Jeremy back into the bedchamber. He marshalled his temper as best he could to say, “Please do not put yourself in danger.” Jeremy continued to look defiant, so he added, “There is much for you to enjoy here at The Chameleon Club. You have not formalized your membership in The Brotherhood as of yet, I believe. I am certain Cecil, that is, Lord Thurleigh, would be delighted to assist with your initiation.”
“Initiation?” Jeremy asked, one eyebrow raised suspiciously.
It was a tiny thing, but it made Derrek laugh, breaking the unbearable tension between them. “Not that sort of initiation,” he said with a rakish look. “Though if you wish to be initiated more fully, I can arrange for that later.”
Jeremy seemed to relax at the ribald comment and almost smiled. Derrek took that opportunity to lean in and kiss him quickly, but he truly had urgent matters at Scotland Yard to see to.
“I will most likely be back by luncheon,” he sighed. “We can dine together and discuss what happens next.”
“Yes, I am eager to discuss that,” Jeremy said, his tone slightly lighter.
Derrek kissed him once more, then turned to leave before the mood between them could turn sour again. He had no great desire to keep his dove under his thumb, but he did want to keep him safe. If he had had more of a care with Joseph and had forbidden his lost love from venturing into the diseased parts of town then perhaps Joseph would still be with him.
He shook himself out of that thought as he descended to the ground floor of the club and walked swiftly past the ballroom-cum-dining room. He would find a bun seller somewhere out and about in the city to break his fast. In that moment, he did not want company or any of his friends asking for particulars about his situation with Jeremy. He wanted to get what was coming over with.
Every dreary assumption he had about what Anderson might have to say to him was proven true almost from the moment he stepped into the inspector’s office.
“I cannot have officers in the employ of Scotland Yard disappear for months without warning or notice,” Anderson lectured him as Derrek stood at attention in front of the man’s desk. “Informing a junior that you would be gone is not an appropriate way of announcing any sort of special endeavor. An endeavor that seems highly suspicious to my reckoning,” Anderson added with extra emphasis. “Who is Mr. Wilkes to you?”
It was the question Derrek had been expecting. “He is a man whose life is in danger,” he said, eyes straight forward. “I am duty-bound to protect those who cannot protect themselves.”
“Your duty is to me and to Scotland Yard,” Anderson said, on the verge of losing his temper.
Anderson was correct, of course. In the cold light of day, without the excitement of the moment or the haze of affection clouding his judgement, Derrek could see how irresponsible his actions had been.
“It is not so much that Mr. Wilkes was and continues to be the target of this plot,” he tried one last effort to exonerate himself, “it is the fact that one of the men I believe to be involved is a villain involved with a case I thought I’d settled two years ago.”
“Explain,” Anderson said, giving no explanation about whether he would accept any explanation.
“Lord Albert Howard of Maidstone Close,” Derrek said. “He and his father, Lord Linton, departed for the Continent after it was proven they were involved in a kidnapping and in the besmirching of a woman’s honor.” That was as detailed as Derrek dared to be with what Lord Albert had done to Lady Suzanne. Of course, it likely helped nothing that the entire operation had been a private matter not connected directly to the Met.
Anderson frowned. “So you are not engaged in wickedness with Mr. Wilkes?” Anderson asked. “Because there have been whispers about you, Talboys.”
That simple statement rang out like a nail being driven into a coffin.
“I can assure you that I have done nothing wrong or inappropriate, sir,” he said, well aware that it was not a denial.
Anderson narrowed his eyes and studied Derrek. “I have no choice,” he began. Derrek held his breath in the silence before Anderson went on with, “I must accept your resignation from the Metropolitan Police Department.”
It was all Derrek could do not to gust out his breath and wilt with relief. Anderson was granting him a boon by allowing him to resign. “Thank you, sir,” he said.
Anderson was still stony-faced as he said, “You’ve served well over many years. It is a shame that it has come to this, but whatever the truth may be, you do not deserve to hang.”
Derrek swallowed hard. “No, sir. Thank you, sir.”
That was, in essence, the end of the matter. There were papers to sign and protocols to observe, but by noon, Derrek walked out of Scotland Yard no longer a policeman.
He should have been devastated. The career he’d worked for and hoped to engage in for the remainder of his days had been snapped short. Except that of late he had not been certain he wished to continue in the direction he’d always gone. Being with Jeremy and becoming a member of The Brotherhood had brought new ideas and new possibilities into his life.
He had a paradoxical spring in his step as he walked back toward The Chameleon Club, pondering the world of choices that suddenly lay open before him. He could use the skills and connections he’d gained as a policeman for the specific purpose of protecting men like him and Jeremy. He’d been damned lucky that Anderson was willing to let him walk away without further investigation into the things he’d heard about him. Not many men would be so lucky, but if there were a way to help those men….
Derrek contemplated a thousand ideas for what he could be and who he could help as he returned to Park Lane. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he did not notice the carriage that stopped several yards in front of him nor the man who stepped down from it until Sir John Conroy turned partially in his direction.
Derrek stopped where he was, nearly causing the man who had been walking a few steps behind him to run into him. He watched Conroy, braced for some sort of attack on the man’s part. But after a few seconds, it became apparent that Conroy did not know who he was, nor did his business have anything to do with him.
That was about to change.
Clenching his jaw, Derrek marched right up to the man as he started toward the stairs leading to one of the stately homes that bordered Park Lane and looked into Hyde Park. He blocked Conroy’s path, and when Conroy recognized that he could be under assault, he wheeled back, his eyes wide in alarm.
“Sir John Conroy?” Derrek asked, deliberately threateningly.
“Who are you and what do you want from me?” Conroy asked, glancing around as if for help.
“I am a friend of Mr. Wilkes,” Derrek said.
Conroy’s nervous glances stopped and he faced Derrek with wide, frightened eyes. He then surprised Derrek by blurting, “I had nothing to do with it. The idea was all Lord Albert’s. I told him it was not worth my time and to leave me out of it. I have had nothing at all to do with the man since, ask anyone.”
Derrek was stunned speechless for a moment. On the one hand, it was foolish for Conroy to say any of the things he had. His outburst could be seen as incriminating. On the other, Conroy had the look of a man who was being hunted. Perhaps more had come to light about his and the Duchess of Kent’s ambitions while Derrek and Jeremy had been away. Conroy might genuinely be willing to drop matters entirely, though Derrek was uncertain he could take that risk. Particularly if Lord Albert had disobeyed him and returned to London.
There were only so many things Derrek could do about the situation now, however.
He stepped closer to Conroy and growled, “If I ever see you near Mr. Wilkes or his shop, or hear that you have so much as mentioned his name, I will find you, and you will not like that.”
Conroy whimpered slightly, then dodged around Derrek and raced up to the door of the house where they stood. He knocked frantically, glancing back at Derrek as though he would have the butler of the house beat Derrek around the head and drag him off to the police.
It would have been amusing to see what happened when the police arrived and greeted him like a friend, but likewise it would have been too much trouble. The best Derrek could do was to walk on up the road to The Chameleon Club.
If he’d thought his troubles would stay behind him once he reached the club, he was wrong. He made it as far as the stairs before catching Jeremy as he descended, dressed in his coat and carrying his valise.
“And just where do you think you are going?” he asked, stopping Jeremy in his tracks.
Jeremy nearly stumbled down the last few stairs, such was his fright at being caught. Derrek noted with a twist of displeasure that Cecil was only a few steps behind Jeremy, carrying his other bag.
Jeremy recovered quickly, making it to the ground floor and putting his bag down. “I know precisely what you are going to say, Derrek, but I do not want to hear it.”
“What I am going to say is that I told you it is far too dangerous for you to leave The Chameleon Club,” Derrek said, planting his hands on his hips. “The threat against your person has not vanished.” Though even he had to admit that it seemed unlikely Conroy himself would make any efforts to hurt Jeremy again. Lord Albert could still be lurking about, however.
“I’ve no wish to stay in residence here,” Jeremy said, standing straight and tilting his chin up bravely. “I am greatly appreciative to Lord Thurleigh and the other members of The Brotherhood, those I already know and those whom I should like to know better, but I have a home, a business, and people who depend on me, and I desperately wish to return to them now.”
“Do you have something to do with this?” Derrek demanded of Cecil.
Cecil merely shrugged. “In as much as I support Mr. Wilkes’s desire to return home.” When Derrek frowned at him, he continued with, “Repairs have been made to his shop and his clientele are eager for his return. Particularly with Princess Victoria’s birthday rushing at us and very likely all the festivities surrounding a funeral and a coronation to be had soon after as well.”
“I need to work, Derrek,” Jeremy insisted. “I need to do the things I was put on this earth to do.”
The plea sounded so much like all the things Joseph had once said each of the many times Derrek had implored him not to venture out where there was crime and disease that it made Derrek dizzy for a moment. He’d been powerless to save Joseph, but he’d be damned if he was rendered powerless to keep Jeremy from harm.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I will not allow it. You need to stay here where you are safe.”
“I am my own man, Derrek,” Jeremy all but shouted. “I am not some toy that can be taken out to the country and played with or kept in a box so that I might not be broken. I have a life, a passion for my work, and people who depend on me. I care for you, more than I’ve ever cared for anyone, and I should like to build some sort of life with you, but not if you insist on wrapping me in loving chains and keeping me locked in a box at all times. I need to live, too.”
Derrek had never seen Jeremy so passionate about anything. He was beautiful and strong, and all Derrek could think was that he was going to lose him. One way or another, he could do nothing to keep Jeremy from slipping through his fingers. He would either venture out into the dangerous world only to be defeated by it, as Joseph had been, or he would grow restless and leave.
Cecil cleared his throat, and when Derrek met his eyes, his friend wore the most pitifully sympathetic look Derrek had ever seen from him. His friend was telling him there was only one right thing to do.
With his heart pounding and his stomach twisting, Derrek pivoted and stood to the side, gesturing with one arm for Jeremy to walk past.
“Derrek,” Jeremy said with gentle appeal.
“Go on,” he said, voice hoarse. “Do not let me keep you. As you have said, you have a life to return to.”
“That does not mean I wish to leave you ,” Jeremy said. “Not in that way.”
“Of course,” Derrek said, though he was uncertain whether he believed it. “Do not let me stop you.”
Jeremy stood there staring at him for a few seconds more, then he sighed and bent to pick up his valise. He turned to Cecil and took the bag he held as well. Then he faced Derrek once more.
“You know where to find me,” he said. “I should very much like you to do just that, find me. Tonight, if you’d like, or any time that you wish to be with me.”
“I have rooms of my own to return to,” Derrek mumbled, uncertain whether he said so as a statement of fact or as an excuse for why he wouldn’t arrive at the shop later.
Jeremy nodded, clearly disappointed. “Very well,” he said. “Goodbye until then.”
Derrek nodded, then watched as Jeremy walked on down the hall. He turned one last time at the far end and sent Derrek a sad smile, then he carried on and left.
“That was a pitiful display of temper,” Cecil said, shaking his head and crossing his arms.
“Whatever do you mean?” Derrek blinked, giving his full attention to his friend with a sharp frown. “I am perfectly calm. There is no temper involved at all.”
Cecil snorted. “Sulking, then,” he said. “You’re sulking because your lover has a mind of his own.”
“As well he should,” Derrek argued, though he felt the contradictory pull of those words in his gut.
Cecil laughed and clapped a hand on Derrek’s shoulder. “You will not be able to keep that one unless you let him go,” he said.
“I know,” Derrek mumbled.
“Have you even told him that you love him yet?” Cecil asked.
Derrek fought not to be affronted by the personal question. “I cannot see how that is any concern of yours.”
“No, then,” Cecil smirked. He let go of Derrek’s shoulder and took a step back. “You’d best tell him soon, though. A tiny sentiment like that would likely go a long way with a man as sensitive and caring as Wilkes.”
“Confessing love is not a tiny sentiment,” Derrek said. “It is an incredible risk, especially when your beloved likes to put himself in danger.”
Cecil nodded slowly, looking at Derrek with new eyes. “You had a lover who died, did you not?”
“I do not see what that has to do with the price of fish,” Derrek grumbled.
“I think it has everything to do with it,” Cecil said. “You need to resolve whatever has you in knots, be it with your former lover or with Wilkes. I’ve known you long enough to know you will not be truly happy until you have smoothed out whatever wrinkles you’ve made with your sweetheart.”
Derrek wanted to argue that he’d done nothing and there were no wrinkles, but that would have been blatantly false. Cecil was right. It was more than just the danger Jeremy faced because of Conroy’s and Lord Albert’s plot against him. Every man was in some sort of danger every day. It all came back to Joseph and the grief that still jaded his actions. But if he wanted to make a happy life with Jeremy, he would have to overcome his own fears of being left alone.